Paladin
by railise
Summary: Arthur and Gwen unwind after he and the army rescue her from a would-be abductor.  2nd place winner in Round 7 of 4 evermore's Arthur/Gwen Last Author Standing at LiveJournal.  Prompt included possibly using characters from legend, hence some names.


Arthur watched as the last of the routed bandits disappeared into the distance, proud at the quick victory his men had achieved. It would send a clear message that Guinevere's retinue would never be safe prey, that the full weight of Camelot was at her back.

Finally feeling safe in taking his eyes from the horizon, he glanced down at her; she was clinging to him in a manner that mirrored his own deep relief. "You're all right?" he asked anxiously, and she nodded.

"And you?"

"Fine, thanks to you." They exchanged a brief smile; he had told her before that she constantly surprised him, and she continued to do so with each day that passed.

"Gwen!" They both looked up as Helaine ran over and flung her arms around Guinevere. "I'm so glad you're safe! I cannot believe you charged at that soldier unarmed; what were you thinking?"

Guinevere gave the other woman a funny look. "I was thinking to stop him from killing Arthur, which I managed to do." Arthur grinned to himself; Guinevere had confided to him that, while she quite liked Lancelot's betrothed, Helaine sometimes said things that struck her as a little odd. Apparently, today would be no different.

"Well, you should have at least hit him with a stick or a rock," Helaine chided. "Or, learn to keep a dagger in your boot." She flashed them a quick smile as she said it.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "You keep a dagger in your boot?"

"When I'm wearing boots," she qualified, in a tone that suggested she still had one on her person even when she was not.

Arthur met Guinevere's eyes, which mirrored his own bemusement, and he nearly started laughing out of a lack of any other sort of reply. He was saved having to think of a proper reaction when Helaine said more soberly, "I'm going to go see what I can do here- I am glad you're both safe."

"I'm glad you're safe, as well," Guinevere replied sincerely.

The young woman's plan was all anyone could do, and it was some time before the group from Camelot retired. The wounded and dead had been seen to, and the army and those they had rescued could finally sleep.

At least, that was, they had the option to sleep; but, Arthur found himself unable to do so, instead staring up at the muted colors of his tent as the torchlight outside shone in through the fabric.

Gwen could not sleep, either, and finally gave up. Slipping off of her cot, she wrapped one of the blankets around her shoulders and moved quietly to the opening in the tent, not wanting to wake Helaine, who was sleeping soundly.

A pair of guards was stationed outside, and one of them warned Gwen to stay within the camp. "I shall," she agreed, and began to walk the path created by the line of tents. So many people had come, such a portion of Camelot's army, in large part for her. It still made her a little nervous, to have that degree of importance placed on her by Camelot's prince regent... but, when it came down to it, what was happening was that Arthur was using every resource at his disposal to save her, as anyone worth their salt would do for their beloved. He just happened to have far more resources than most.

Looking at it that way, she was able to relax and merely be warmed at the gesture, and it helped that the guards she passed all acknowledged her pleasantly. By the time she completed her circuit of the camp and got back to the tent she was sharing with Helaine, she felt far more at ease; however, instead of going in and laying down, she found her eyes drawn to Arthur's tent, set up beside hers. It would be nice to talk to him, since they had been too busy earlier this evening, yet she was hardly about to wake him up. With a sigh, she was about to retire, when Arthur stepped outside.

He seemed as surprised to see her as she to see him- and as pleased. As Gwen joined him, he smiled. "You could not sleep, either?"

"Not a wink," she confirmed. "I thought a stroll might help, but no such luck."

Glancing behind himself and then back to her, he asked, "What about a nightcap? I have a little wine, but didn't care to drink it alone."

Happy that she would get to talk with him after all, Gwen nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."

He gestured for her to precede him into the tent, holding the flap open for her, and then followed her inside. "You can take the cot. It's more comfortable than the bench," he said, retrieving a bottle and two goblets from a small chest while she seated herself on the camp bed. Handing her one of the goblets, he then dropped onto a short bench situated in front of an equally small table near her.

Taking a sip of the wine, she reflected on how spartan the furnishings were; other than the simple table and seat, the chest, and the admittedly comfortable cot, the only other adornment in the room was a sword rack. Most royalty traveled in much grander style, taking rugs and more decorative furnishings, at least- things servants had to carry. She preferred this simpler approach.

"So, why can't you sleep?" Arthur asked.

"I do not know," she replied. "I'm so tired, but my mind will not stop going."

"I know what you mean." He tilted his goblet, looking into it as though it held a solution to his musings. "I cannot stop going over everything that will need to be done tomorrow."

"I cannot stop going over everything that happened today," Gwen said softly. "This should have been a simple journey; it was all going so well..." She had decided to accompany Helaine on a short trip to visit the other woman's cousin, who lived two days' ride from Camelot. "If I had not gone, this might never have happened. I was the target. Helaine might have died because of me... some of Camelot's men _did_ die. Sir Sagramor, Sir Galeschin-"

"Guinevere." Arthur had set his goblet on the table and came over to crouch in front of her, relieving her of her goblet and setting it aside on the ground, so that he could take her hands. "It is _not_your fault, it is mine. I knew that Lord Claudas was planning to move against me, and I should have known he might try to use you; he's always been too cowardly to face me, himself. I should have planned for this."

"No, you could not have known," she argued, laying a hand on his cheek.

"I had a better chance to know than you," he pointed out.

Gwen could not argue that, but she did have a different argument. "The true fault lies with Lord Claudas."

Arthur had to concede, yet still wanted to make sure that Guinevere acknowledged what she had said, too. "Exactly; and not with you."

The smile she gave him was slow, but real. "Thank you," she said. "And, thank you for coming for us."

Arthur was slightly taken aback. "You never have to thank me for that," he told her. "In fact, I want you to expect it- although, I sincerely hope there will never be another time where you will need to," he added with a touch of humor, despite the genuineness of his words.

"I will expect you to always come for me, if you agree to expect the same of me," she told him, and while she was still smiling, he got the sense that she was absolutely serious.

"Guinev-"

"Please don't 'Guinevere' me yet," she interrupted. "I mean it. I have fought for Merlin and his people, and I have kept men from pursuing Morgana; never doubt that I will fight for you. I will fight the hardest for you."

Arthur met her gaze, deeply touched by the intensity of the emotion in hers, and nodded. "Very well." Giving her hand a little squeeze, he gently quipped, "Just remember to keep a dagger in your boot."

They both laughed, and then she suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. While he had already gone through worry and subsequent relief regarding her safety earlier, and had since been focusing simply on the fact that she was unharmed, an unexpected second wave of relief washed over him, and he pulled her closer. Her arms tightened around him, and it was awhile before he pulled back. "I'll walk you to your tent," he tried to say lightly, the tone marred by a distinct inability to breathe properly just yet.

She bit her lip, making it difficult to resist doing that for her, then said in a rush, "If it's all the same, I would prefer to stay here. If you do not mind." Her own breathing was faring no better than his, which made the quick statement seem even more hurried. "It's quite cold tonight, and the tent does not keep out the chill very well, even with the blankets, and-"

He was so surprised, he just stared at her for several beats as she rambled nervously. "Of course, I do not mind," he finally managed to say. "I'm sorry... I didn't realize you were cold; go ahead and get under the covers."

Guinevere slipped off her shoes and did as he bid. As he tucked the covers around her, she gazed up at him. "I'm still cold. Will you join me?"

It was not an invitation he should accept, but he heard himself say, "If you wish."

"I do wish," she replied, the corners of her mouth turning up in a very assured manner; although her speech had been nervous, it was apparently only verbalizing it that she found difficult. She seemed to have no hesitation about what she wanted.

Quickly shedding his boots, he climbed in beside her. As she cuddled up beside him, he asked, "Warm now?"

"Very," she confirmed, the word marred when she yawned widely. Arthur grinned, until her yawn inspired one of his own. "Mmm, I'm so sleepy all of a sudden," she murmured.

"Then, go to sleep," he suggested softly, feeling that same lure, himself. She was just so comfortable, and while he would have expected to have something more than sleep in mind- still would be open to the notion- this was perfect unto itself.

"Good night, Arthur," she mumbled.

"Good night, Guinevere." He was not even sure if she heard him, or if she fell asleep before he spoke. Enjoying having her in his arms, he reminded himself to be more vigilant from here on out. It was no longer a secret to anyone what she meant to him, which made her a target. He would not let anything happen to her- nor, apparently, would she let anything happen to him. While his immediate inclination had been to brush that off, he knew better. Guinevere was a quiet woman, but a true one. If she said she would fight on his behalf, he had no doubt that she would.

Somehow, the idea warmed him, almost as much as the sensation of her sleeping on his shoulder did. Guinevere was his comfort amongst the ceaseless troubles they faced, and he would be as proud to have her fight for him as he was to fight for her.

Placing a gentle kiss on her hair, he was soon asleep, as well.


End file.
